Opportunity Makes a Thief
by Xaydin
Summary: Else Snow-Song always knew she'd grow up to be a thief since she was a child in Bruma. But once she became Guild Master, she finds herself in a tight spot, with no jobs to pull - time is running out and her fellow thieves are getting impatient. Post main and Thieves Guild quest lines. Include Dragonborn DLC. Cynric Endell/F!OC. M for language/sex/violence. Small hiatus due to work.
1. Prologue

_-17 Evening Star, 4E186, Bruma, Cyrodiil-_

Evening Star nights in Bruma were cold, to say the least, and this night was particularly bitter. The wind howled mercilessly through cracks and crevices, chilling those brave souls outside straight to the bone. Some would swear that it was the wind coming down from the Skyrim peaks to freeze Bruma, just over the border.

The manor of the Snow-Songs could stay strong against whatever Kynareth could throw against it; built by the finest masons with the strongest stones, the house was essentially a fortress. Bruma had changed since the Hero of Kvatch had stumbled through on their journey – now, the Snow-Song manor towered above much of the town, with only the Great Chapel of Talos and Castle Bruma being larger.

The Snow-Song family could boast riches gained from a profitable mining venture that quickly escalated into smith work, glassblowing, and eventually the exportation of their finely crafted wares. The patriarch of the family, Honmund Snow-Song, was a crafty Imperial bastard who was deeply invested in making his coin purse bigger. His wife Silia Farseer had been the daughter of a Nord merchant, placed into an arranged marriage. Together, they had twin sons, Bormir and Daglin, who grew up to become a scholar and a soldier respectively. No one expected Else thirteen years later.

The surprise of the family sat in bed, her already impossibly large eyes even wider as the winter gale caused the glass panes in the window to rattle fitfully. She buried her face in her drawn up knees, trying not to cry as a particularly strong gust caused a loud banging noise.

"Nana!" she wailed, terrified that the wind was going to break through the glass and carry off her slight five-year old frame. In the other room, her nanny continued to sleep off that extra glass of Cyrodilic Brandy from dinner, oblivious to the cry of her young ward.

Else pulled her head up from her knees and screwed her eyes shut, willing the winter wind away. They opened again, however, when she heard a creak that certainly wasn't from the wind. In fact, she knew that creak – it was the floorboard right outside her door, in the sitting room. She loved to annoy her tutors by rocking back and forth on it, causing a symphony of wooden squeaks.

The door gently eased open and a figure crept in, dressed in dull leather armor and hooded, carrying a sack over one shoulder. The moonlight from the windows illuminated some of his face, and the look of surprise when he saw a blue eyed, blonde child sitting up in the massive canopied bed at the far end of the room.

"Fuck," he swore softly, straightening up.

"Hello," she said, strangely unafraid. "Who are you?"

"A stranger," he replied gruffly, resting his hand on the hilt of an ebony dagger. "You never saw me, a'right, kid?"

Else tilted her head to the side, her wispy blonde hair falling to one side. "But I can see you," she remarked, puzzled in this statement of childish logic. "Are you a thief?"

"Kid, that's none of your business," he grumbled.

Else threw the covers off and hopped out of bed, her bare feet touching the plush carpet under her bed. Her nightgown fluttered around her ankles as she stumbled over to him.

"Do you want one of my toys?" she asked brightly. He stared at her incomprehensibly; in his silence, she hurried over to her bed and picked up a stuffed animal, a blue bunny with buttons for eyes, returning with it cradled in her arms.

"His name's Bert, and he likes carrots." She lifted the toy towards the thief, who took it gingerly, placing his sack on the floor. It clinked gently. He looked back at the little girl for a moment. In the background, the wind had faded away.

"Why are ya givin' me this?" he asked, rubbing the black stubble on his jaw.

"Nana's always telling me stories of thieves who steal from people like us and give to the beggars, and Bert thinks that's 'no-bell', and he wants to be a thief, too," Else piped up, smiling at the thief and revealing a front tooth missing.

The thief looked at the blue bunny and then back at the tiny girl with the pale wisps of hair and bright blue eyes. After a moment, he knelt before her, pulling his hood back and handing the bunny back to her.

"I think Bert would be sad if he was with me," he said finally. "The life of a thief is hard – I don't think he'd be very safe."

"Oh." Her brow furrowed, and she took back the bunny. After a moment, her face cleared, and she nodded. "Yes, it's probably best."

The thief smiled, his uncovered face craggy but warm. "I'll tell ya what, though," he stated, pulling his ebony dagger and its sheath from its holder on his belt, "You and Bert can protect yourselves with this. Ya have to promise not to play with it, though, and ya can't show anybody this."

Her eyes widened. "Anybody?"

"Anybody. It'll be our secret. In fact, I'll help ya hide it." He stood up and walked over to her bed, lifting up the feather-down mattress and placing the sheathed dagger underneath it. Else stood behind him, watching. "When ya get older, you can ask an adult to teach ya how to use it, okay?"

She nodded gravely.

"Now, get in bed," he said coarsely, putting one rough hand on her back and pushing her gently towards the curtained mattress. She climbed in and the thief turned away.

"Aren't you going to tuck me in?" she called. His shoulders sagged a bit and he turned back around, walking back to her.

"Fine, kid, and then ya have to let me leave." He pulled the covers up to her chin. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sir Thief." She closed her eyes as he opened one window and slipped through silently. Soon, she was asleep, dreams of noble thieves and antiheroes drifting through her slumber.


	2. Chapter 1

-_13 Rain's Hand, 4E203_-

Rayya liked to wake up before the sun, so she could get the house ready for her Thane. It wasn't very often that Lady Else was home, and, when she was, she was exhausted. Sometimes, the housecarl wondered if she was doing everything she could for her Thane, for everything that Else did for her. It was only last week that she had brought Rayya a new scimitar, inlayed with precious gems and ivory, in the Hammerfell style. For a moment, it had given Rayya a small bout of homesickness, laced with gratitude for the slight woman.

This morning, the Redguard woke up and trudged downstairs, intent on bathing in the lake below the house. She nearly jumped out of her skin, however, to see Lady Else lounging in a chair in front of a very lively fire, a book lying unattended in her lap.

The Nord had dark circles under her electrifying blue eyes that stared into the flames, her thick honey hair falling into her face. Battle scars peeked out from beneath the collar of her white tunic, including one particularly nasty dragon bite that had nearly taken off her arm. A scratch had gouged itself in her left cheek from a fight with a wolf, back when Else had first entered Skyrim. The housecarl knew almost everything about her Thane – they had been housemates for years now.

Else suddenly pulled herself out of whatever thought she was trapped in, her eyes flicking over to Rayya. "Good morning, Rayya. Sleep well?"

The housecarl pulled herself together. "Yes, I did, my Thane. What would you like for breakfast this morning?"

"Don't worry about it, Rayya, I've already eaten." Else hated to lie, but it wasn't worth troubling her friend. The Redguard hesitated before nodding once.

"Then, if it's alright with you, I will take some time to get ready for the day."

"Of course." Else let her eyes drift back to the fire, and sighed, crossing one leg over the other. The main door closed with a soft thunk.

It was hard to think that Else had slain Alduin a week ago; with how slowly time passed now, it seemed like it had been years. And, yet, she was constantly being reminded of it – the terror of his thu'um, the people she hadn't been able to save over the years – with nightmares that rocked her to the very core.

"You're up early, lass."

Else looked up, startled, at the red headed Nord that was standing by her fireplace. Her eyebrows pulled together, and she closed the book in her lap, placing it on the floor.

"Just because you could sneak into someone's house doesn't mean you can, or should, sneak into mine," she stated, not looking directly at him.

Brynjolf cracked a small smile, walking over to where she sat. "Well, it's not like I haven't been here before."

Else frowned, looking away. "I thought we weren't going to talk about that."

"Well, no one's around anyway, lass. And who's to say that I didn't need a bit of comfort now?"

"Because people don't show up just before dawn for 'intimate relations'. And your guild armor tells me you want to talk about guild matters."

Brynjolf tilted his head, his smile fading. "Aye, it's true. We haven't seen you at the Flagon for quite some time."

"I was busy."

"Fighting Alduin, we know. But the Guild's starting to suffer," he remarked, sinking into a seat by her. He leaned forward on his knees. "We haven't pulled in any haul since the Eyes of the Falmer, besides some measly burglaries, and Gallus's notes are useless now, seeing as Mercer got to all of the targets before we did."

"I'm sure Vex and Delvin have heard some rumors of something we can pull," Else replied, drawing her knees up, wrapping her arms around them and resting her bare heels on the seat.

Brynjolf shook his head. "Not unless we want to cross the border into Cyrodiil – and that's not going to happen with how closely the Empire has been watching."

"Since when have thieves had trouble sneaking under the noses of guards?" she snapped, shoulders hunching forward. Brynjolf pressed his lips together. Else stood and looked at her fellow thief. "Look, did you really think that now would be a good time to talk to me about this? Five days ago, I nearly died. And, by the Nine, I was in Sovngarde! If you couldn't tell, I'm bone weary and far more than a little stressed."

Brynjolf stood beside her and cupped her chin with one hand, his mouth softening. "I'll give you a few more days, then, lass – but we need to come up with a solution. It's not just you that's in this guild, after all." He lowered his head to kiss her on the collarbone, over the scar left behind by an arrow. She sighed and pushed him away gently.

"Give me until next Tirdas at the earliest, okay?"

He twisted a lock of her hair around a coarse finger. "Whatever you need, lass."

Brynjolf left with an apple and a smile, walking past a startled Rayya who had just come in, hair still wet. She turned to Else who had sunk back into her seat.

"When did he get here?"

"Not too long ago. I imagine he had some business in Falkreath regarding the guild," Else replied. She got up from her seat and looked at her friend. "I'm going into the cellar." She hesitated before continuing. "I hate to play the role of the obnoxious thane, but I'd rather be left alone while I'm down there. If it's of dire importance, I expect to be disturbed."

"Of course, my Thane."

...

In the cellar, the forge roared into life as she cranked the bellows. Sparks were thrown, dancing, into the air, and the coals seethed, radiating heat. Else placed the ebony ingot, heated until it was red hot, on the anvil with tongs.

For a moment, she held it there, imagining the shape of the end product in the ingot, before raising her hammer and letting it fall. It scattered sparks, some falling on her thick leather gloves and creating small black spots to match the others. She sculpted the ebony with her hammer, reveling in the heat and the strong strikes of metal against metal with each pound.

Finally, it was done. With the tongs, she plunged the dagger into the slack tub, letting the newly made weapon hiss and sizzle. Steam rose against her face, causing beads of sweat to roll down her temples.

Gazing into the blazing coals of the forge as she waited for the dagger to cool, her thoughts drifted back to her first battle with a dragon, after escaping Helgen. He had almost taken her arm off…

* * *

-_22 Last Seed, 4E201_-

Else screamed, clutching her shoulder as she sank against the opposite wall of the tower. The dragon chuckled, his laughter grating on her bones.

"It's been long since I've tasted _joorsos_. Mortal blood." A tongue flicked over his teeth, licking off the blood that dripped from his fangs. "You taste of _maal_, terror."

Else gasped, her shoulder throbbing. Hot blood poured between her fingers as she struggled to keep the wound closed. Mirmulnir bared his teeth in a bloody, terrifying smile of dagger sharp teeth.

"_Sahlo_. Weak."

The dragon pulled himself forward using his clawed wings. It resulted in an awkward shuffle as he approached Else, who was trying to even her breathing. Her ebony dagger lay at her side, dropped as Mirmulnir had bitten into her.

"I can smell your fear, _mal Bron_. Little Nord." He lowered his head to stare directly into her face; the smell of smoke rolled off of him in waves, overpowering Else's senses. "Tell me: are you scared to die?"

She looked up at the fearsome beast, towering over her in her curled up position. His bronze eyes flickered, as though there was a spark behind them, and he opened his burning maw.

"_YOL_ – "

Else grabbed the dagger with her good hand and leapt to a standing position, jamming the blade into the throat of the dragon, just below the jaw. She dragged the black dagger down, splitting his gullet, until she could go no further.

"Fuck off and die, worm," she hissed before ripping the blade out with a spurt of blood that splattered her leather armor.

He toppled over with a choked cry, smashing through the stone wall surrounding the roof of the watchtower. The body tumbled through the air before it hit the ground with a crunch of scales and bones breaking.

Else stumbled over to where he had broken the wall in his collapse and leaned against the broken stone with her good arm, leaving a handprint of bright crimson dragon blood against the granite bricks.

Irileth was suddenly behind her, her red eyes wide at the sight of the blood pouring from Else's wound. "We've got someone wounded up here!" she shouted over her shoulder, grabbing Else and gently lowering her to the ground. "Just relax, Else – someone should be here soon."

The sound of wind suddenly filled the air, though no breeze ruffled the grass. Else sucked in as a rush of air suddenly pervaded every fiber of her being, filling her with a radiant light. Even Irileth looked fazed, staring at the tendrils of gold and yellow that raced into Else's body from the dragon.

After a moment, the light died out, and Else sighed, sitting up slowly. She touched her shoulder, and gazed at her hand. No blood. She moved her injured arm slightly, testing it, before picking herself up as though nothing had happened.

Turning, Else found the stunned faces of Whiterun guards and Irileth, staring as though she were some ghost.

"Dragonborn."


	3. Chapter 2

-_20 Rain's Hand 4E203_-

The Flagon was humming with activity – merchants around the door stood by their stalls, waiting for thieves and other unsavory characters to come by and buy their wares, from daggers to potions of invisibility, while Tonilia bought the stolen goods that people brought in, usually with a wink and a smile.

Else leaned against a wall by the bar, watching old faces, and some new, chatting and drinking. Yes, with the improved standing of the guild in cities such as Whiterun and Markarth, more and more people were interested in joining a strong group, and especially one designed to make money.

She crossed her arms, the black leather of the guild master's armor creaking quietly. It would be a shame when they realized the unrest that the guild was already experiencing. She could see it now; it was in the way Delvin glanced warily at her, in how Vex buried her glaring face in her tankard.

"Nice to see you, lass."

Else turned her head and locked eyes with Brynjolf. He placed his hand by her head and leaned in.

"You feeling any better?"

She nodded once, and lifted a hand to brush one red braid with her knuckle. He smiled and leaned closer, to where his breath warmed her ear as he spoke softly.

"Will I be seeing you tonight?"

"Depends on my mood. But I'll say your chances are fairly high." She tugged on his braid and he pulled away, smirking.

"Shall I call a meeting in the cistern?" he said more loudly.

"Go ahead. I have a few things I want to discuss with everyone anyways."

She watched as he moved around the Ragged Flagon, quietly speaking to everyone in the guild. After a moment, she straightened and walked towards the cistern.

As she opened the door, she stood for a moment, gazing at the way the light from the well overhead reflected off the water in the cistern. It illuminated the face of Vipir, lounging by the pool. Karliah stood by the statue of Nocturnal, her head bowed as she communed with the Daedric prince. For a moment, Else felt a pang of guilt for not having the same loyalty to Nocturnal, but pushed it away, focusing on the here and now. The room was quiet save for the murmur of voices as Sapphire and Rune held a small conversation with each other.

"So I'm finally seeing you with a smile on your face," Else heard him say.

"It's this place. It feels like home. It's just nice to finally have something going right in my life."

Else pushed her hands into her pockets and walked into the center of the room. Everyone looked up at her and put down whatever they were doing. The members from the Flagon filed in and waited as she paced the center of the room.

Finally, she stopped walking and looked up. "Well, I'm back," she said with false cheer. "And Alduin is…gone, so the end of the world isn't coming any time soon."

She fiddled with her sleeve for a moment before looking up at impatient faces. "I know times have been tough. I'm not blind. It gets harder and harder to steal things when it's all been stolen, yes?

"I have a couple of proposals for the guild, one being rather mundane, and the other more…adventurous."

Else paused and examined the expressions of her fellow guild members, hoping she wasn't doing too horrible of a job. By the Nine, she was terrible at this sort of thing.

"The first involves the Stones of Barenziah. Vex, if you could explain…?"

Vex straightened up, pinching her lips together before speaking. "The Stones of Barenziah are the stones in the crown of Queen Barenziah. The stones were pried off of Barenziah's ceremonial crown by a thief in order to cover his tracks. I think there were twenty-four in all; most people keep them as a curiosity. Some of the Guild members have tried to locate them over the years, but they haven't been successful.

"Each one separately isn't worth too much – if you have the whole set, however, it's worth quite a bit. And if you have the crown, it's worth a fortune."

"Barenziah?" Karliah suddenly interjected. "As in the Queen of Wayrest and the Queen Mother of Morrowind?"

Vex looked over at the Dunmer. "Yes…why?"

The Dark Elf thief rubbed her upper arms. "She's my grandmother."

"She's _what_?" Delvin rumbled, looking at Karliah incredulously.

"My mother was her illegitimate child by a thief posing as a bard named Nightingale, later learned to be Dravyn Indoril." She smiled crookedly. "It would seem I was born into thievery."

Else paused, hands behind her back. "Well, this changes a few things. My plan was to collect the Stones and reassemble the crown, but if you are against it…"

Karliah waved her hand dismissively. "She ignores my side of the family, the bastard side to put it bluntly, and I am not too keen on her. It would be rather amusing to reassemble the crown, only to sell it. I have no problem."

"Good. So, for our mundane task: collect the twenty-four stones," the Guild Master continued.

"But where are we supposed to find them?" Garthar, a new recruit to the guild, asked.

"Well, that's the problem – I have no clue. Somewhere here in Skyrim."

There was a collective groan in the cistern. Else whipped her head around, glaring.

"If you want to go back to pickpocketing paltry sums, be my guests. This is one of my offers to you all, and I will not be retracting it because it's 'too much work' for you."

The room fell silent. Else rolled her shoulders.

"Now, for the more adventurous idea." She cast a mischievous smile around the room. "Who's heard of the Hoard of the Dragon Priests?"

There was a quiet murmur in the cistern.

"Isn't that just an old wives' tale?" Cynric finally asked after a moment.

"We all certainly thought so, didn't we?" Else remarked. "Just like we thought dragons were just a myth, right?"

Niruin, the Bosmer of the guild, suddenly raised his hand. "Am I the only one who doesn't know what the Hoard of the Dragon Priests is?"

"The Hoard of the Dragon Priests is a child's tale, a legend about a cave full of riches hoarded by the Dragon Priests when dragons ruled Skyrim, the likes of wealth none has ever seen. People paid tribute to the dragons, and their priests stored it away for the dragons to sleep in," Rune explained.

"Dragons love gold," Sapphire interjected.

"Well, as I was saying, I think we should look into these 'old wives' tales', and see if there's any truth to it. If so, we can make sure the guild is set for many, many years," Else stated. "It may take a bit of work, but I want to be working on both projects at once, got it? Delvin, Vex, if you get any rumors of an unusual stone seen somewhere in Skyrim, send out some of the new recruits – Garthar, Ravyn, Etienne, that means you."

There were nods and mumbles, and, before long, the crowd had dispersed. Else walked over to the desk where a book of expenses lay. As she examined the pages closely, Brynjolf walked up, bracing himself on the desk.

"Your solution to all of this is to chase fairy tales, lass?" he murmured, cocking an eyebrow.

"It's the best we've got right now, Bryn." She glanced up at him under her lashes before flicking her eyes back down. "Besides, even the Eyes of the Falmer were a legend at one point. And Barenziah's crown is a real thing."

"Yes, a real waste of time," he grumbled. "What if one of the stones was destroyed? Lass, you're sticking your neck out too far for this."

Else finally lifted her head and smiled at him sweetly. "You are quickly losing the chance to spend tonight together with that attitude." She paused and placed one hand on his discreetly. "I need you, as Guild second and my fellow Nightingale, to support me on this."

Brynjolf sighed once and nodded reluctantly. "Okay, lass." He lifted her chin with a finger. "I'll see you tonight at Honeyside, then."

She smiled and he walked away. Idly, she admired his rear before returning to the expenses in front of her.

"Guild Master?"

Else looked up, slightly irritated by the continuous distractions. "Please, just call me Else, Cynric," she sighed.

The blue eyed Breton smiled a bit sheepishly. "Sorry, Guild – Else. I wanted to speak with you about the Hoard of the Dragon Priests."

She nodded. "Do you know something about it?"

"Well, not personally, but I was thinking about ways we could find some more information on it. I was hoping we could discuss it sometime."

"You could tell me a few of your ideas now and save some time," she said bluntly, but she paired it with a gentle smile. Cynric smiled back, his stubble creasing slightly.

"Well, the first would obviously be the College of Winterhold."

"Their library, yes – that is an idea."

"And I was wondering if you knew anyone who was highly knowledgeable about dragons and their lore."

Else hesitated. A wide smile suddenly spread over her face. "I do know one source," she said slowly. "He's a bit…different, but he knows everything there is about dragons."

Cynric brightened. "Excellent. We should establish a day to go talk to him."

Else raised her eyebrows. "You're very keen on this, aren't you?"

He took on an embarrassed expression. "Ah… The legend of the Hoard was one of my favorite stories growing up. When I was a boy in Evermore, I pretended to be an adventurer finding the Hoard in my backyard. One of the girls in my district would be the damsel in distress I would save…" His face bloomed red, and ducked his head. "I'm sorry, you don't want to hear that sort of stuff."

Else chuckled. "No, it's alright. When I was growing up in Cyrodiil, I used to play that I was a master thief. I would get in trouble with my playmates' parents because I would keep what I stole."

Cynric grinned. "You've wanted to be a thief your whole life, haven't you?"

Else paused, placing a hand on the ebony dagger at her hip. "Yes, I suppose I have." She wrinkled her nose. "My father didn't find it very amusing. My older brothers had respectable goals and careers; I was the black sheep of the family. He had no problem with my leaving for Skyrim to join this faction. My mother wept for days before I left."

"That's how mothers are," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "Well, I'm sure you have a lot on your plate right now. And not just Guild matters," he added. Else locked eyes with him, catching her breath. "So, I'm going to leave you to it," he continued. "Have a good evening, Else."

She nodded and lifted a hand in farewell as he walked away.

Most of the other thieves were sleeping in the Cistern by the time she finally closed the account book with a frustrated mutter. She blew out the candle on the desk and waited for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the dark. She didn't want to fall into the pool, after all.

Walking back to Honeyside wasn't too bad. No one was going to bother her, if they knew what was good for them. She passed through the marketplace, casting her eyes for a moment on Madesi's long vacant stall, recalling her induction into the Guild.

She could see light from beneath the door of her Riften home. With a gentle push, the door swung open, and she stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

Someone cleared their voice, and she looked up to see Brynjolf clothed in nothing but a blanket, one arm behind his head. His armor lay neatly folded on the bedside table.

Else grinned and started walking over to him, unbuckling her armor as she moved. It fell to the floor with soft thuds. Finally, she stood in front of him completely nude, hands laid gently on her hips.

"I didn't know you wore nothing under your armor," Brynjolf remarked, his eyes tracing her slight figure.

"I find it's less chafing," she replied casually, climbing onto the bed. He reached up and pulled her head towards his, kissing her deeply before throwing her over his body and pinning her down to press his mouth to her neck.

She smiled, eyes closing as his lips travelled down to her collarbone, then to between her breasts. His craggy hands gripped her waist as his mouth explored her shoulders and neck once more. One hand suddenly slipped away, dropping down below her waist and between her legs.

Else gasped and her eyes snapped open, her back arching as he stroked her gently, using her moisture to glide against the sensitive area. After a few moments of toying with her, he pulled his hand away and sucked the fingers clean. She panted, sweat starting to break out on her temples as he grinned devilishly at her.

"You seem ready to play, little lass," he purred, gripping her by the hair and kissing her neck roughly. He entered her in the same motion and she shrieked, her thu'um causing the house to tremble slightly, as he filled her with one smooth movement.

"Sh, sh, sh," he murmured in her ear, his breathing heavy as he moved his hips to push and pull out in a steady action. "You want to wake up all of Riften and let them know what we're up to?"

Else suddenly had a sly grin of her own. "Perhaps I do." She pushed him off of her and climbed on top, impaling herself on his fully erect manhood. Moans escaped her as she slid down it. He lifted his hips to push against her, his hands resting on her hips to guide her erratic movements as she bucked against him.

Her breathing intensified as she rode on top of him, her hips starting to rock wildly with each thrust. With a sudden gasp, she began to moan, feeling the flush of an orgasm creeping through. Brynjolf saw the look on her face and began to push his hips upwards in a steady rhythm, causing her breasts to bounce with each thrust.

Finally, she felt the orgasm shock through her system, causing her hands and toes to clench and unclench as her opening tightened around Brynjolf. Her screamed moans made the house shake, with several objects sent crashing to the floor.

When it was over, she panted uncontrollably, dizzy from the sudden release. Brynjolf brushed some strands of hair out of her face before pushing her off of him.

"You alright, lass?"

She nodded, wiping some sweat off her brow. "Yes, I'm good."

"Good. Bend over the bed, then," he instructed. Else glanced over at him and smiled, rolling over so that her feet touched the floor as she rested her stomach on the bed.

He positioned himself behind her and guided himself in, groaning as she enveloped him. She sighed herself, relishing the feeling of his throbbing appendage in her once again. Brynjolf twisted one hand in her hair and placed the other on her waist before sliding out and back in with a slap of skin on skin. She gasped, back arching once more.

He moved in and out of her with increasing speed, his breath turning ragged with each thrust of his hips. She responded in turn, trembling with another approaching release as he struck into her.

Finally, she came again, and he followed not too long after, pumping himself into her shuddering opening. He removed his hand from her hair and waist and collapsed on top of her, sighing deeply with exhaustion.

Else rolled over from underneath him and opened up a dresser drawer, taking out a small leaf of dragon's tongue. Popping it into her mouth, she chewed and then swallowed, making a face as it went down. Anything to prevent pregnancy.

Brynjolf had already cleaned himself up and was curled under the bed sheets by the time she hopped into bed. His breathing quickly became even. She gazed at him for a while, musing on their situation.

No, they didn't love each other. They were certainly sexually dynamos when together, and there was no denying Brynjolf's charm, but Else didn't have time for love, and Bryn never showed any interest in it either. It was a clean and simple case of using each other, of wanting the intimate touch of another human being. She wanted to feel close to someone.

She slid under the blanket and placed her head on the pillow, closing her eyes. Sure, there were a lot of things wrong with what they were doing, but she spent her life doing illegal things – one more immoral act wasn't going to damn her.

Else drifted off to sleep, praying that Vaermina would grant her no more fire filled nightmares.


	4. Chapter 3

-_8 Rain's Hand 4E203, Throat of the World, Skyrim_-

Else sighed, falling to her knees as the mountaintop materialized around her. Her eyes fluttered dizzily before focusing on the snowy sky, grey and cloudy above her. Snowflakes tumbled down around her, dusting her shoulders and eyelashes as she stood. Wooziness washed over her.

Dragons of all kinds – blood, frost, ancient, and elder dragons – sat on the rocky outcroppings of the Throat, their wings waving as they steadied themselves against the wind.

"_Alduin mahlaan_," they spoke together.

One, with bronze scales and wretched wings, lifted his head to speak. "_Sahot thur qahnaraan_."

"_Alduin mahlaan_."

"_Dovahkiin los ok dovahkriid_."

"_Alduin mahlaan_."

"_Thu'umii los nahlot_."

"_Alduin mahlaan_."

"_Mu los vomir_."

With that, one by one, each dragon lifted into the air, soaring away from the mountaintop with powerful wings. Else watched each of them, her wooziness melting as they flew off.

Paarthurnax craned his neck to look at the Dragonborn as she swayed over to him, finally collapsing into the snow to lean against the broken Word Wall he perched on.

"Well done, _malbron_. Little Nord. _Alduin mahlaan_. Alduin has fallen."

Else nodded, silent. The dragon leaned down to nudge her shoulder gently, concern in his smoky blue eyes.

"Are you _ahraan_, wounded?"

Else looked up and lifted an arm to scratch the jade scales under his chin gently. A low growl of pleasure formed in his throat.

"No, Paarthurnax, just…overwhelmed. And a little burned."

He lifted his head from her scratching and took off from his perch, circling around to land on the snowy ground with an earth-shaking thump. Lowering his head a few feet from where she sat, he examined her.

"Overwhelmed? From what, _malbron_?"

She brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "I'm the wrong person to be Dragonborn," she mumbled.

"No, _malbron_. _Hin sil los dovah_. Your soul is dragon."

"That doesn't mean a person like me should be a hero." She shook her head. "I never wanted to be the Dragonborn."

"Ah. _Los maar_. You were scared."

"I thought I was going to die," Else said quietly, drawing designs in the snow with a gloved finger.

"_Dinok los ni maar, malbron_."

"It is scary, Paarthurnax, don't try to tell me any different." She leaned her head back on the wall and closed her eyes. Each flake falling on her cheek was a sting of cold. "And what am I supposed to do now? I feel like this whole Dragonborn thing is going to chase me around for the rest of my life."

Paarthurnax was quiet for a moment, rolling his head in the snow as he looked at the young woman sitting in the snow, hunched up in a small ball.

"_Dovahkiin_, though you may be _mindok_, known, in _Keizaal_, Skyrim, for this, it does not have to be the only reason. You can do whatever you _laan_, want."

He pushed his head closer to her body. His breath was smoky, and warm in the cold air. "But that is not all, _niid_?"

Else flicked her gaze over to Paarthurnax, who was watching her closer. Slowly, she loosened up, hesitating.

"Sometimes, I can't control my _thu'um_," she confessed. "I feel like I'm going to explode with some pressure in my heart, and I have to Shout."

The ageless dragon nodded his head slowly. "I had guessed." He drew back and lifted himself so that he sat hunched over on his wings. "To be _dovahkiin_, you are trapped in the body of a _joor_, a mortal. I had wondered how the _sil_ of a _dovah_ would fit in the form of a _joor_. And I do not believe it will.

"I fear you are _dahniik_, doomed, _wah krifhinsil_, to fight the soul in your body, _malbron_, else it will consume you."

Her shoulders fell and she let out a dark laugh. "So I may just burn up one day?"

Paarthurnax looked at Else for a moment before speaking. "I do not believe you will, _malbron_, for you are _mul_. Strong."

She nodded and stood, walking over to the dragon and placing her hand on his neck. "I should go home."

"Odahviing can take you back. I am sure it is far, _malbron_." He pushed his head against her chest, almost knocking her down. "_Aalhin thu'um kos mul, dovahkiin_."

Else smiled, scratching the scales on his snout. "Same to you, _zeymah_."

* * *

-_25 Rain's Hand, 4E203, Autumnwatch Tower_-

Else tilted her head back, enjoying the rays of the sun on her face. She let the book lie unattended on her lap for a short period of time.

The Cistern had almost been unbearable today. She had come to the guild in an attempt to study some texts about their new plans and start marking a course of action, but hadn't even stepped through the door before being approached. After been barraged by questions about the Hoard by skeptical members for almost a solid forty minutes, she had finally made it to the desk, where Etienne and Garthar were waiting.

They complained about being sent on a wild goose chase after "unusual stones" that had just turned out to be regular gemstones, and wanted her to pull them from the project. She had nearly throttled Etienne right there, as he sneered down his nose at her and saying something about "stupid plans that people make" to her face.

Else couldn't speak with Brynjolf then, as he had left the city, scouting for miscellaneous targets around Skyrim. She wasn't able to discuss plans with Tonilia, either, as she had left town to discuss plans for an alliance with the Imperial faction of the Thieves Guild, according to Vekel.

So here she was now, at the top of Autumnwatch Tower, taking in the sunlight and enjoying the solitude. If she had known that being Guild Master would be such a pain in the ass at times like this, she doubted she would have taken on the job.

Opening her eyes a smidge, she glanced at the Word Wall across the way. The dragon that had been guarding this place had been tough, Shouting at her with a voice of ice and fire that had bombarded her relentlessly. Repairing her armor had been incredibly difficult that night.

Else switched her gaze back to the book in her lap, not really reading the words that floated in front of her eyes. She sighed and focused, underlining a certain sentence with a piece of charcoal.

There was the sound of boots on stone, and Else had scrambled to her feet, ebony dagger in hand as she waited to see who came up.

Cynric popped his head up as he climbed the stairs, his face brightening as he saw Else. "Hello!" he said cheerfully.

Else sheathed the dagger, relaxing. "You should probably not sneak up on me like that," she remarked. His smile waned a bit, returning a bit more sheepishly.

"Ah – sorry. You're right." He continued up the stairs and to where she was sitting, plopping himself down beside her. "What brought you all the way out here?"

"Wanting to get away from the Guild," she replied, making a face.

"Oh. Do you want me to leave? I can always leave." He started to stand, and Else shook her head, pushing him back down.

"No, it'll be fine."

"Alright." He sat for a moment, fingering the strap of his knapsack. "Why do you want to get away from the Guild right now, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Um. Well, everyone seems a little…wary of the new plan I proposed," she said hesitantly. "Those who don't think that it's a child's tale are convinced that I'm chasing what doesn't exist, what with the Stones of Barenziah, and we'll end up wasting more resources than it's worth. So I'm just kind of tired of dealing with people."

"I see." Cynric's face was thoughtful, his blue eyes half shut.

"What about you? Why are you out here?"

"What? Oh!" He grabbed his backpack and pulled out a few books. "I wanted to help you with research for the Hoard. I brought an old book of mine from when I was growing up in Evermore, and some books about the legends of dragons." He handed them to her. "It's not much, but I thought it might help."

Else paused, smiling surreptitiously. "You really are excited about this project, aren't you?"

He looked away shyly, fiddling with the knapsack. "It's an exciting thing," he mumbled before looking back at her.

"It's alright, you can be excited about it. It's nice to have someone on my side of all this," she remarked with a shrug.

He looked surprised. "What about Brynjolf? Isn't he helping you?"

Else raised an eyebrow. "No – right now, he's looking for any other job he can pull."

"Well, shouldn't he be supporting you? You and him, after all…"

The Dragonborn laughed, shaking her head. "No, him and I aren't anything. Just…a fling."

"Oh." An unreadable expression passed over Cynric's bright blue-eyed gaze. He cleared his throat and looked back down at the books, stroking an unshaven chin. "Well, er…I think that these books aren't going to tell us much about the Hoard. They are mostly meant for children and casual readers, not so much for people actually trying to find this thing.

"So, either we go to this friend of yours, the expert on dragon lore, or we can go to the College of Winterhold and look at their library. Personally, I believe talking to your friend would be a bit of a better idea, but what do you think?"

Else blanched a bit before quickly looking away. "Er, well – here's the problem: he's…in a bit of trouble. On the run, so to speak. So, I wouldn't want to give him away, you know?"

There was no way on earth that she could give away Paarthurnax to someone she couldn't trust. Sure, Cynric was a fellow guild member, but she didn't know how he would react to a real, up close dragon. While it hadn't seemed like a bad idea a few days ago, a bit of thought had quickly dissuaded her.

"I think it would be better to just go to the College," she finished lamely.

Cynric nodded slowly, though he didn't look totally convinced. "Well, we can do that, then. I heard the Orc who runs the library is a bit of a grouch, but not impossible to deal with."

"So, first to the College of Winterhold."

"And then…somewhere else, if that doesn't work," he added with a nod.

Else's stomach suddenly growled aggressively, startling her. Cynric laughed.

"Here." He reached into his knapsack and pulled out an apple, handing it to her.

"Thanks." She took a bite into it. "You came prepared," she remarked, spewing apple juice everywhere. Cynric laughed again, wiping it off the sleeve of his guild armor.

"Well, I figured one of us would get hungry at some point."

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "You know, Cynric, you didn't have to come all the way out here to get to this conclusion, after all."

"I suppose not," he admitted. "Sorry, I just got excited."

"It's alright." Else glanced away. They were both silent for a moment. Around them, the trees swayed lightly around them, birds chirping softly. A light spring breeze wafted through the branches and ruffled Cynric's brown hair.

"Tell me about yourself, Cynric," Else requested. "I feel like I don't know much about my fellow thieves."

Cynric played with his thumbs for a moment, before looking back at Else. "Well, I come from Evermore, in High Rock. My parents were locksmiths, to feed my baby sister, Cayara, and myself. She still lives in our old house. I've been lock picking since I was ten; my father would get calls from owners who couldn't open the lock, so I learned how to do it." He chuckled. "Little did I know I would spend the rest of my life doing it.

"Word of my lock picking went around Evermore, and then High Rock. It wasn't long until I was approached to become a jail breaker."

He paused and glanced over at Else. "Do you know what a jail breaker is?"

"You go into jails as a prisoner and lock pick your way out?" Else raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. "I'm the Guild Master. Of course I do."

Cynric ducked his head and smiled in mild embarrassment. "Ah – yeah, that makes sense. Well, as I was saying, I was hired by a lot of people after that, including the Dark Brotherhood. They asked me to kill some people and then break out on my own. Went all over Tamriel doing jobs like that."

He scratched the back of his head. "Few years later, I got caught. Went to jail in Daggerfall for three years, this time with no lockpicks to assist me. After some thought, I decided to join the Guild. There's no one to back you up when you freelance lock picking, you know? I knew Delvin, so I sent a letter to him, and got accepted into the Guild."

"Why didn't you go with the Dark Brotherhood?" Else asked, tossing the apple core over the side of the tower.

Cynric shrugged. "I don't know. I think I realized that out in the world, my skills would bring me more wealth as a thief rather than an assassin. Killing someone in a jail is much easier than what the Dark Brotherhood deals with. I guess I wanted to play it safe. And death is so…grim." He pushed a hand through his hair. "It's better that I don't kill people for a living, you know?"

He looked over at Else. "What about you? Who were you before all of this?"

Else tugged on an earlobe and sighed. "I was wealthy. I had private tutors, trips to foreign lands, everything and anything I could ever want…but I truly wanted to be a thief. I would play pretend games as a child; I would sneak off with things that belonged to the servants. I would hoard things under my bed. When I became sixteen, I was nearly arrested for trying to steal a necklace out of a shop in daylight. Only reason I didn't rot in jail for a year was because my father was the town's wealth.

"The Thieves Guild in the Imperial City contacted me after that. I became an apprentice under the Gray Fox at the time, and he taught me everything I know. After a while, I was told of the problems that the Skyrim faction of the Guild was having – Delvin sent me a letter, saying he had heard of me being the apprentice of the Fox, and would I please come over to help out a suffering arm of the Guild. He mentioned a curse, which intrigued me. Not to mention my mother, who was a Nord, Shor guide her, told me so many stories about Skyrim – I practically had to come."

She tilted her head. "And…I guess that's it."

"And you're…Dragonborn?"

Else's mouth closed and she looked away for a moment. "I didn't ask for it," she said quietly. "It's brought me nothing but pain. Physically and mentally."

"But the Shouts must be amazing," Cynric remarked. "To be able to speak and breathe fire because of that… I'm truly in awe."

"Do you know how many times I've nearly died?" she blurted out. "Nine times." She pulled the neckline of her tunic to reveal jagged, dark red lines that crisscrossed over her upper body. "I've been burned, stabbed, bitten, shocked, knocked out, thrown across rooms, and frozen. I've gotten three different diseases, turned into a vampire once, nearly lost an arm, broken seventeen bones, and I've lost more blood than I care to remember."

She released the neckline and crossed her arms. "I'm a thief, not an adventurer. I don't want to fight things, I want to steal from them and live a comfy, cozy life with lots of gold. If I have to fight, so be it, but I am terrified every time I have to cross blades with someone." She paused. "I've been to Sovngarde once already," she said softly. "I don't want to go again any time soon."

Cynric was quiet, gazing at her with a mixture of admiration and pity. "Your life must be hell sometimes."

"Try all the time." Else sighed and leaned back against the stone barricade surrounding the top of the tower. "But that's life. It's hell, and no one bothers to tell you that when you're growing up."

Cynric looked away. "It must have been a lot to shoulder, to find out that the rest of humanity was riding on your shoulders."

"It was a burden I wouldn't wish on my enemies," she murmured. "I didn't sleep for days – can't sleep still. I have nightmares of the World-Eater coming at me, mouth open, and just when his teeth pierce my flesh, I wake up." She shuddered, rubbing her arms as if it were freezing.

Cynric stood up and slung the knapsack over his shoulder before offering his hand to Else. "Come on; we'll go to the Bee and Barb – mead's on me tonight. You sound like you could use quite a few drinks."

Else looked at him wordlessly before taking his hand and hauling herself up. "Doesn't sound like a half bad idea, as long as you're paying." She cracked a grin and released his hand, gathering up her books.

She didn't know how long they were at the Bee and Barb, only remembering laughing loudly and rather drunkenly at practically everything that was said that night.

Else didn't remember being tucked into bed that night, either, much less being escorted to her own house, but she woke up just before dawn with a massive hangover, head on her own pillow in Honeyside. Opening her eyes blearily, she gazed at the bedside table, where a tankard of water and a small note sat alongside an empty bottle of Argonian Bloodwine.

As she sat up to drink the water, head pounding, she read the note.

_Some night last night. I thoroughly enjoyed your rendition of Ragnar the Red. Am hoping to hear more of your serenades soon._

_-C.E._

_P.S. Looking forward to Winterhold College. Have a good feeling. Sleep well._


	5. Chapter 4

-_2 Second Seed, 4E203, Honeyside, Riften_-

Else paused, a book in either hand as she looked at Brynjolf, brows furrowed.

"Should I bring the books? I mean, we are going to a library after all."

Brynjolf shrugged, cleaning his nails with a steel dagger. Else tilted her head and sighed, putting both the books down and sitting down on the bed. She pushed a hand through her fawn hair, let down around her shoulders.

"I'm getting the feeling you still don't agree with all this," she said quietly.

"You already know, lass," he replied, looking up at her from under his eyebrows. He placed the dagger on the table beside him. "I'm not like Cynric, with his head in the clouds."

Else raised her eyebrows. "That's not very nice. Cynric is a good person."

Brynjolf waved his hand dismissively and leaned back, balancing on the two back chair legs.

She paused and stood, walking out of the bedroom to the basement. Her Thieves Guild armor was dressed on a mannequin, untouched since Mercer had betrayed the guild, last year. She ran a finger along the shoulder, streaking through a thin film of dust.

As she dusted it off and unbuckled the armor from the mannequin, she thought back to when she had first met Bryn. He had been so kind to her when she had entered Riften as a stranger, and gentlemanly. It was no wonder she had fallen for his charms. He remained faithful in her skills, where some were a bit more hesitant.

And when they had first slept together, it had been wonderful. He had been the first to have her; he was gentle in his touch, and attentive. Everything had changed, though, after Mercer had been killed, and they had the Eyes of the Falmer. There were times when he was too busy for her, dismissing her with a "Not now, lass, I've got important things to attend to." And that was that.

It wasn't until she had defeated Alduin that she had heard back from him. And somehow, he had still expected the intimacy they had shared – but without the charm he'd had before.

She sighed and leaned her forehead against the mannequin, her hands pausing over the buckles and straps. She thought she wanted what they'd had before – but she wasn't so sure anymore.

Else straightened and resumed pulling off the armor, finally finishing the job and folding it neatly. She walked back upstairs and placed the small package of clothing on the bed, next to a couple of sheathed ebony daggers, hooked onto a belt.

"I'll need warm clothing," she murmured, but paused; she looked at the other, empty side of the bed. "Bryn, you haven't started packing yet."

The redheaded thief glanced up at her. "I'm not going."

"You're what?"

"I'm not going. I'll be handling the Guild while you're gone, lass." Brynjolf shrugged. "I'm not going to leave it leaderless. And I am next in the chain of command."

Else paused before jamming the armor into a knapsack with a violent thrust. "I think you just don't like any of this," she muttered.

"You're damn right I don't."

"Aedra fuck all, Bryn!" she snapped, gripping the knapsack until her knuckles turned white. Fire burned from behind her eyes. "I have asked you to have a little faith in me and you haven't even had that."

Brynjolf snorted and crossed his arms. "This is a fool's errand, lass."

"Maybe it is, but it's the closest thing we have to a job right now." She trembled in anger. "I have been trying my hardest to keep this Guild together, and if I cannot even have you, my right hand, behind me, it will make my task far harder."

Else released the knapsack and sank onto the bed, rubbing her temples. The only sound in the house was the crackle of the fire.

"I don't think it would be good if you came with, anyways," she said after a moment. "Too many people may raise some suspicion."

Brynjolf looked at her with amusement. "So, lass, you'll bring poor Cynric with you?"

"He can pick a lock better than anyone in the Guild. It would be good to go there. And he is willing to help." Her nostrils flared as she looked up at the ceiling, throat clenching. She stood and resumed packing, picking up a fur-lined cloak and placing it into the bag. Buckling the belt with the sheathed daggers, she glanced at Brynjolf.

"While I'm gone, you are not to enter Honeyside," she said finally.

"What?" Brynjolf's eyebrows rose. "Lass…"

"It is my home. Not yours. You stay here, but only at my behest." Else paused and fixed a dagger in her belt, trying to hide her frustration. "You lived before in the Cistern – you can stay there again."

Brynjolf stood, his teeth gritted. "Fine, lass. We'll have it your way."

Else instantly regretted everything. "Bryn…"

He stormed away, slamming the door as he exited, the cups on the shelves rattling where they stood. Else stared at the door and set her jaw, looking away.

Fine. If he wanted to play games, he could. She would continue, regardless.

She slung the knapsack over her shoulder and exited Honeyside, stalking to the Thieves Guild's secret entrance. With a push of a button, the coffin moved back, revealing a dark set of stone stairs. She pushed open the door to the cistern after pulling the chain to place the coffin back in its original position.

Pausing in the entranceway to the cistern, she glanced around the stone room, frustration and a little loneliness welling up within her. She looked up at the sound of quiet but excited murmuring, craning her head to see a small crowd of thieves surrounding her desk.

Else walked over, and Niruin looked up, his golden eyes wide with eagerness.

"Rune found a Stone in Mistveil Keep," he said excitedly. "And Thrynn found one in the Black-Briar Lodge."

Else's eyebrows shot up and she pushed through the crowd to get to the desk. "Thank Stendarr," she murmured, "something finally goes right."

Beside sprawling piles of paper and the account book, two rosy pink stones sat side by side in their golden cases, levitating gently over the plush interior. They flashed and glittered as they turned, catching the light and reflecting the faces of those gazing at them with a mixture of wonder and respite.

Else picked one up and examined it, a relieved smile spreading over her face. It may all just work.

"Else? Are you ready to go?"

She turned to look at Cynric, dressed in a loose leather jerkin over a linen shirt instead of his usual Guild attire. His short brown hair was in a mess, sticking up in random places as though he had just woken up.

His gaze flicked down to the Stones before returning back to her face with a wide smile. "It's exciting, isn't it? Everyone's happy that they've made some headway in this whole business." His smile suddenly faded. "Where's Brynjolf?"

"Ah – he's not coming with. He…wants to have someone in the charge of the Guild while I'm away." Else shrugged, trying to mask the frustration. "Shall we go on then?"

"Okay," Cynric said, sounding a tad uneasy. "If everything is okay…"

"Yes. Everything is fine." Else put on her best false smile. "Let's go."

Vex, for once in the cistern rather than the Flagon, gave them a rare smile as they passed her. "I hope you find something of worth at the College. With us finding a couple of the Stones, I'm thinking that maybe your ideas weren't as crackpot as I thought."

"Thanks, Vex," Else replied, rolling her eyes. "We'll see you when we get back."

Vex mock saluted as the door closed behind them.

* * *

-_4 Second Seed 4E203, Eastmarch_-

Else yawned, and turned over, her eyes opening one wink at a time. The gray dawn light of Eastmarch, peeking over the horizon, made her wince, and she sat up, wrapping a few furs around her. Her horse, Sol, stamped her hooves in the snow, snorting while Cynric's stallion was quiet.

Else paused and listened past the noise of the horses to detect if Cynric was awake. He tended to sleep a little later than she was used to – but not many people were willing to get up at dawn, anyways. She closed her eyes, trying to flush away the nightmares of the previous night. Fortunately, she didn't scream in her sleep anymore, but it still kept waking her continuously.

She could hear Cynric grumbling as he dressed in his own tent. After a moment, his footfalls made crunching thuds as he stepped through the hand-deep snow.

He poked his head into her tent, his eyes heavy with sleep that he hadn't shaken off yet. "Ah, good, you're awake." His gaze touched on her summer blue eyes briefly before he looked towards the dead fire. "Shall I make breakfast?"

"Yes. Do that." She yawned, placing her hands on her lower back as she stretched. "I'll be out soon."

Cynric disappeared from her tent, and she pulled herself up fully, her eyes finally adjusting to the light. The sun was rising from behind the clouds that permanently hung over Eastmarch, but it still made her squint.

She grabbed the fur-lined vest, dyed black, and began to strap it over her thick wool shirt, cinched at the wrists. The soft leather breeches were already on her, so she pulled on thick boots. The gray cloak, made of wolf furs, was finally pulled around her shoulders and bound with a silver brooch.

Else braided her hair as she stepped out of the tent, watching Cynric as he broke some loaves of bread, a few eidar cheese wedges lying unwrapped beside him. She sat down beside him, finishing her braid and coiling it into an elegant bun.

Cynric raised his eyebrows. "And where are you going, looking so fancy?"

"I'd rather the College not think I was some sort of street urchin," she replied, picking up a loaf of bread and eating quickly with sharp, short bites. She finished the loaf quickly, picking up the cheese and looking at Cynric. "We'll arrive there sometime today, after all."

He paused. "I didn't realize we were so close."

"It's only a few days ride, after all." Else swallowed the last of the cheese. "We passed Windhelm yesterday."

She dusted her hands off on her thighs, standing and gazing at her travelling partner. "I'm going to break down my tent; you should do the same."

They rode off less than half an hour later, while flurries fell around them, dusting their shoulders and hair. The sound of snow falling was a soft whisper over the thumps of the horses' hooves hitting the ground. Else and Cynric chatted quietly, unconsciously hushed by the silence around them.

After a few hours ride, Else looked up excitedly. "Look!" she cried, pointing out into the distance. "The Sea of Ghosts!"

Cynric reined in his horse and gazed out towards the dark, lapping ocean. The sound of the waves splashing against the glaciers echoed across the icy cliffs and to where they stood.

"I've never seen it before," he murmured in awe.

"I love the ocean," Else said, her eyes skipping across the tormented sea. "Just be careful swimming in it – it will chill you to the bone, regardless of the season." She chuckled. "Then again, so will Winterhold in general. It's almost summer, yet the winter stays strong here. As always."

She turned her horse and goaded her back to a trot, Cynric doing the same after a moment, dragging his eyes from the water.

"Is that the College up there?"

Else looked up and squinted through the swirling snow. The granite towers materialized as dark shapes in the distance.

"Ah! Good, we're close."

She slapped the reins, spurring Sol faster. Cynric urged his horse into a gallop, racing past Else with a playful grin. She laughed.

"So that's how it's going to be," she murmured and pushed Sol even faster until she and Cynric were neck-and-neck, racing to Winterhold.

Cynric finally pulled ahead and entered the single street of the town, turning his horse around. Else slowed to a trot and looked around.

"Let's tie up the horses and head over to the College." She rubbed her arms. "And get out of this damned cold. Shor's bones."

They tied the horses at the Frozen Hearth before walking over to the College, snow caking on their boots as they approached the walkway.

An Altmer woman, dressed in fine clothes and her blonde hair pulled back into two ponytails, looked up at them haughtily.

"Cross the bridge at your own peril!" she cried dramatically. "The way is dangerous, and the gate will not open. You shall not gain entry!"

Else sighed. "Faralda, it's me. Else."

Faralda squinted and leaned back. "Ah. Forgive me, Dragonborn. I did not recognize you." She switched her gaze over to Cynric. "And who is this? I cannot allow a stranger into the College."

"He's…my servant. My right-hand man." Else crossed her arms and raised her chin, fixing Faralda with a superior stare. "We are here to gain entry into the Library. The fate of Tamriel rests on what we find."

"Oh – er, of course, milady." Faralda nervously stepped aside. "I hope your ventures are fruitful."

"Thank you," Else sniffed and strode forward, shoulders back, chin held high. Cynric hurried behind her.

As soon as Faralda was out of sight, Else relaxed and rolled her shoulders. She glanced over at Cynric, who was looking at her with amusement.

"What?"

He drew himself up and looked at her in mock-superiority. "'The fate of Tamriel rests on what we find'," he mimicked before collapsing into a teasing grin. "I didn't even know you could act that snooty."

Else smiled sheepishly. "Nobles and their lackeys don't respond to the humble," she responded. "I've been a famous long enough that I've learned how to manipulate people like Faralda – you never get anywhere with Jarls and Kings and even Guildmasters if you don't show some kind of superiority, whether it is truly there or fabricated."

Cynric's grin had faded into an expression of thoughtfulness. "I'd never seen it that way. I suppose it does make sense. But I doubt I'll ever have to deal with it," he finally concluded. "I'm no noble, no hero, no thane. All I do is pick locks."

"And to be a lovely travelling companion for your Guildmaster," Else added. He smiled at her, his blue eyes crinkling.

She pushed open the gate to the College and paused, gazing at the large statue of Shalidor, the first Arch-Mage, in the courtyard. Cynric whistled, looking around the snowy scene.

"Some place," he remarked.

Else nodded and walked towards the door, opening them slowly. The golden light of the interior washed over her, making her honey-colored hair shine. The instantaneous warmth melted the snow dusting her hair and shoulders, soaking through to the skin. She shivered involuntarily.

"The library is this way," she murmured. Cynric went through the door and poked his head around the wall.

"There's a really scary looking Orc sitting there," he said nervously.

"Then we're in the right place," she replied, and walked in after him. "Urag Gro-Shub! Good to see you, as usual."

The Orc looked up, his brow furrowing as he stroked his white beard. "Well if it isn't the Dragonborn," he said gruffly. "We haven't seen you around recently." He turned his attention over to Cynric. "And who is this?"

"Cynric. He's my right hand man," Else explained casually.

"A newcomer, eh?" Urag glowered at Cynric. "You are now in the Arcanaeum, of which I am in charge. It might as well be my own little plane of Oblivion. Disrupt my Arcanaeum, and I will have you torn apart by angry Atronachs." He looked back at Else. "Now, do you require my assistance?"

Else unloaded her knapsack, placing it on the floor. "I'll get to that, but first…" She grinned at the Orc. "Would you be interested in purchasing an Elder Scroll?"

Urag looked at her in contempt. "Very funny. Did Enthir put you up to this?"

"I'm serious. And I want you to have it – for a price, of course." Else smiled devilishly.

"You…really? An Elder Scroll?" Urag's eyes widened as Else reached down and pulled out a large ornate scroll from her knapsack, gently laying it on the counter of the Arcanaeum's desk.

"By Nocturnal," Cynric murmured behind her, his eyes tracing the grooves of the Scroll. Its gold casing, with amethyst settings and intricate carvings etched into its surface, seemed to vibrate as it sat on top of the counter.

Urag looked up at Else in awe. "I would be honored. Beyond honored to have such a thing here at the College. This opens up entire new realms of research for us. Oh, if only Septimus were here to see this! Thank you. Please –" Urag suddenly rummaged through his counter and pulled out a large bag of Septims "– take this. It can't quite compare to an Elder Scroll, but still. You will be remembered for generations for this."

Else waved her hair, her cheeks a bit pink with embarrassment. "Ah – don't worry about it. But you can help us. Are there any works here in the Arcanaeum on the Hoard of the Dragon Priests?"

Urag snorted. "That old fairy tale? We have a few works by some scholars in the field of dragons, but the Hoard is only ever barely mentioned."

Cynric and Else exchanged looks before she returned to attention back to Urag. "Those will be fine."

A few hours later, Else and Cynric sat at one of the tables, the candles burning low. Else rubbed her temples, sighing.

"There is nothing in these books about the Hoard," she muttered.

"Nothing more than what we've heard before." Cynric leaned back in his seat, the corners of his mouth pulled down in disappointment. "That's that, then - I guess it is a myth."

Else hesitated. "Well…" She drummed her fingers on the desk. "There's…one more thing we can do."

She pushed her chair back and stood. "We'll have to visit the Throat of the World."

"What's up there? The Greybeards? You think they'll know something about the Hoard?" Cynric asked.

"No. We aren't going for the Greybeards." She sighed, leaning on the table. "We'll have to go visit Paarthurnax."


	6. Chapter 5

_-29 Frostfall 4E197, Bruma, Cyrodiil-_

Honmund Snow-Song frowned at his daughter, arms crossed as she stood in front of him. He recognized the jewelry merchant standing beside her as the man shook the necklace at Honmund.

"She had her thieving little hands holding this, trying to sneak off with it! If it hadn't been for the city guardsman who had been in the shop as well, she would have been off with it before I could have realized it was gone."

Honmund sighed, his icy blue eyes zeroing in on Else.

"What do you say of this, Else?"

She looked over at him, glowering. She looked so much like her mother, with her rich blonde hair and high cheekbones making her pale face angular and almost harsh when she glared – but that glare was what reminded him that she was also his child.

"I say that I didn't account for the guard, and that this man is an oblivious fool," she replied matter-of-factly. The merchant clenched his fist as though it would not please him more to punish her with his own hand.

Honmund sighed and walked over to a table where a coin purse lay unattended. He counted out a stack of Septims lazily; the merchant's eyes followed his every move.

After a while, he scooped up the coins and held his hand out to the merchant. "Would that cover the necklace – as well as any, ah, issues, you may have?" he asked, an eyebrow rising.

The merchant looked at him knowingly and with a vivacious spark of greed. "I believe that would cover the minimum," he remarked with false nonchalance. He handed the necklace to Else, who looked down her nose condescendingly at him, despite being shorter. His mouth twitched.

"I better not catch you in my shop again, girl – no matter who your family is, I will not be so merciful next time," he growled and exited the Snow-Song manor, the door slamming behind him.

Honmund frowned at his daughter, who tossed the necklace on an end table and threw herself down into a plush chair by the fireplace, legs spread and arms hanging off the sides.

"Sit like a lady," he snapped. "Have all those etiquette lessons taught you nothing?"

"Other than how to be an utterly boring human being? No," she muttered, not changing her position as she stared into the flames.

He pinched his lips together. "Am I to punish you?"

"Thought you already were planning on it," she retorted, finally casting a burning glance at her father.

"Oh, well, thank you for informing me. You are to go to your room, and to stay in that wing for the next week, dinners included. If you leave the manor without your mother or I accompanying you, or without my permission, it will be extended to double the time."

Else clapped her hands together. "Fantastic," she cried sarcastically. "It's all I ever wanted!" She pushed herself out of the chair and turned to face her father. "At least now I don't have to listen to your incredibly insipid stories throughout dinner anymore. Tell me, were Bormir and Daglin as bored to tears listening to you as I am daily?"

His lips pressed tighter together. "Two weeks. Go. Now."

Else gripped the sides of her fine silk dress, lifting it half way up her calves to march up the stairs defiantly. She slammed the door to her room behind her.

Silia Snow-Song found her on her bed, staring at the ceiling, when she came in with dinner. She placed it on the desk at the far end of the room and walked over to sit beside her daughter.

"So…"

"Mama, I don't want to talk about it," Else cut in gruffly. She sat up and looked at her mother. "Father is just being…insufferable."

"You did steal a necklace," Silia reminded her. Else's face softened slightly. "And it doesn't reflect well on the family."

Else's expression grew stormy again and she stood, stalking over to her desk. "To Oblivion with the family," she scoffed, lifting the cloche to inspect the meal brought up to her. "Father couldn't give a damn about what we do, so long as his Aedra-fucked partners keep trade with him."

"Else! Watch your tongue."

The teenager flushed, her head ducking a little sheepishly. "But you know it's true," she muttered. "Father doesn't even want me. He'd be more than happy if it had only been Bormir and Daglin. He doesn't even like being around me." Her mouth pursed. "Around us."

Silia sighed. "Your father is in a very…stressful position. Always. He was raised in a family of brothers, so he doesn't understand our more delicate sex."

"I wish you wouldn't put it that way, Mama. I don't feel any more delicate than a boy." Else stuffed a large bite of salmon in her mouth. "I doubt Father would be unhappy if I had been born a boy. And maybe he should get used to the idea of having a wife and daughter."

"Smaller bites, dear, and don't talk with your mouth full."

Else swallowed and turned back to walk back to the bed and sit down beside her mother. "I'm alright staying here, in my room for the next two weeks. I have my books, and it's not like Bruma has anything to offer me, anyways."

Silia smiled. "Perhaps when you turn eighteen, your father and I will let you visit the Imperial City. It's certainly less cold there."

"Aren't you used to the cold? You're from Skyrim, after all." Else brightened. "Maybe I could visit Skyrim sometime?"

Silia patted her hand and smiled indulgently. "Perhaps. We'll talk about it more when it's a more…opportunistic time. I imagine your father wouldn't be very receptive to the idea right now." She stood and kissed Else on the forehead. "Just remember: your father does love you, very much. He just doesn't know how to show it."

Else pasted on a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course."

The door closed softly behind Silia and Else groaned, flopping back down on the bed. She paused momentarily before flipping over onto her stomach and reaching down under her mattress.

The ebony dagger was still as sharp as the day it had been given to her. She held it in her hands, admiring the light reflecting off of its polished black surface. Her eyes slid over to the opened letter sitting on the end table. She had been fortunate that her mother hadn't noticed it.

She placed the dagger beside her and picked up the letter, running her fingers over the broken grey seal, a wolf stamped into the wax. It was an honor to be invited to the Guild, particularly at her age, but she had no idea how they had singled her out. They must have eyes everywhere, like the Dark Brotherhood. She opened the now well-creased letter, her eyes scanning the lines that she had almost memorized.

_Meet our associate by the Bruma Caverns on the thirtieth of Frostfall at dawn. The Guild is interested in your talents._

_Signed, the Gray Fox_

She closed the letter again. Being stuck in her rooms for the next two weeks interfered with the rendezvous, but leaving before dawn would not alert anyone of her coming and goings. Smiling, she gripped the ebony dagger.

Things were going to work out just fine.

* * *

_-4 Second Seed 4E203, Ivarstead-_

Cynric tottered down the stairs to the main level of the College, his arms filled with books. Else stepped behind him, her face wrinkled with a frown.

"What sort of trouble is your friend – Paarthurnax? – in?" Cynric asked over his shoulder. She nervously twisted a strand of hair around her finger.

"It has to do with…who he is. It's complicated," she replied uncertainly. Cynric stopped when he reached the main hall of the College and turned to look at Else.

"I have a feeling there's something you're not telling me," he remarked, eyebrows rising. Else took some books out of his grip, easing the burden.

"You'll see. Soon enough." She hesitated. "I…trust you. I think."

They were suddenly stopped by an Altmer man, dressed in Thalmor robes, who looked at them scornfully.

"You two aren't Apprentices here," he sniffed, lips pursing together.

Else drew herself up. "I am Else, the Dragonborn, and Thane of all nine holds. Who might you be?"

"Lord Ancano. I'm here on behalf of First Emissary Elenwen and the Thalmor," he replied, folding his arms over his chest as he sneered at her.

"And why does the Thalmor exactly need a representative at the College?" Else's glare matched Ancano's leer in pure iciness.

He smirked at her. "My, but you are an inquisitive one, aren't you? I," he began grandly, "am an advisor to the Arch-Mage. The Thalmor, after all, wish to promote relations with your college. I am at the Arch-Mage's disposal if he requires advice."

Else's mouth compressed into a mocking smile. "_If_ he requires advice? I take it he doesn't ask for your opinion very often."

Ancano sniffed disdainfully. "Perhaps not as often as he should," he admitted. "In time, I believe, he will be more trusting."

Else's face said otherwise. "Of course. Well, if you'll excuse us, we'll take your leave." She turned without saying anything else, opening the doors to the high winds and snow.

Cynric was silent until the doors closed behind them. "What was that about?" he hissed, his voice barely coherent over the whisper of the wind.

"I can't stand the Thalmor, and I especially hate to see them in places like this. It means trouble more often than not," Else muttered. "And for him to be in such a powerful place, where many Nords fear to tread… No, I highly doubt that this will turn up to be a good thing.

"In the meantime, let's head south to Ivarstead. We'll see Paarthurnax soon enough."

"Perhaps we can take a night here at the inn," Cynric suggested. She made a face in reply, stopping to load the books into her saddlebags and untie her horse.

"The Frozen Hearth has a tendency to have more skeever infestations than they care to admit. No, we'll camp out again – but I can make the weather a little more manageable."

Her fellow thief looked at her in amusement. "Oh? Has Kynareth decided to use you as her incarnation?"

"Better. I'm Dragonborn." She swung herself on her horse and winked at Cynric. "You may wish to cover your ears."

Gripping the reins of Sol tightly, she inhaled deeply.

"_LOK VAH KOOR._"

The snow suddenly stopped, and the clouds rolled back to reveal a clear blue Skyrim atmosphere, crisp but not biting. Cynric looked up in disbelief.

"Well, that's certainly useful," he remarked.

"Aye." Else reined in her horse and smiled at Cynric. "Now, shall we continue on?"

Ancano watched them gallop off from his position atop the Tower of Attainment, his eyes narrowing. Two Apprentices, a Bosmer and an Imperial, fidgeted behind him.

"You. Girl," Ancano snapped, swiveling his head to look at the Bosmer. She jumped and clasped her hands together at his gaze. "Go up to the Arcanaeum. Ask that fool of an Orc what they were here for." The girl nodded and scurried away, a tinge of fear hurrying her step.

"In the meantime, I would like you to bring me a roll of paper, a quill, and some ink. Elenwen must know." He switched his gaze to the young Imperial apprentice. "Go!"

He turned back around, ignoring the young man's exit, to watch the two thieves became nothing specks on the horizon. "I don't like this one bit," he muttered, his long fingers gripping the stone balustrade tightly.

* * *

_-6 Second Seed 4E203, Ivarstead-_

Else hopped up onto the short stone wall lining the bridge to the 7,000 Steps, chewing on a hunk of bread on the verge of staleness as she sat. Beside her, Cynric gazed up at the Throat of the World. His eyes flicked over to Else after a short period of time.

"And we're supposed to walk all the way up there. Ourselves." His voice held disbelief.

Else chuckled, fixing her Guild armor slightly. "What would you suggest we do? Fly?" She took another bite of her bread. "If you haven't noticed, I'm a little devoid of wings," she added through her mouthful, spraying little crumbs as she spoke.

Cynric smiled wryly. "It would be much more helpful right now if the Dragonborn had the wings as well as the soul of a dragon."

Else rolled her eyes and finished her small meal, swallowing down the tough bread. "Walking is good for you. And I've gone up the mountain – by walking, that is – far more times than I care to count. You'll live."

"Us mortals aren't made of strong stuff as you are."

"Hey, I put my armor on one strap at a time, just like the rest of you." She kicked her heels against the stone, sticking her tongue out at some passerby who clung to his bag tightly upon seeing her armor. "You would think these people would trust a thief."

Cynric leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "They know better. And seeing how the Guild's been prowling around looking for the Stones, they're a little warier than usual."

Else nodded and wiped her hands on her leather trousers before hopping off the wall. "I trust you have your bow handy?"

"Of course," Cynric replied, tapping the hunting bow strapped to his back. "Though I would prefer a peaceful walk rather than an uphill battle."

"Who wouldn't? Unfortunately, things aren't quite that simple." She smiled at him and was given a grin in return.

The first two thousand steps were no issue. No wolves or bears attacked them, allowing for a gentle and meandering walk accompanied by pleasant conversation. The last four thousand, however, were stressful; a horde of ice wraiths attacked them, their hissing and spitting grating on Else's ears. She slashed through them with her black dagger, a little more than satisfied to see them spiral and dissolve into little piles of ice. A troll was taken down by Cynric's strong bow arm a little while later. After that, they had to deal with harsh winds, fraught with snow that felt like tiny needles of ice as it was blown into their faces.

"Why can't you clear this?" Cynric gasped, shivering as they hiked further up.

"You don't think I've tried?" she replied, teeth chattering. "It's enchanted to dissuade those weak in spirit. Not the greatest thing anyone has ever done."

Cynric grunted in reply, and they continued to climb up the mountain.

Finally, High Hrothgar rose up in front of them, its fortified stone façade a pillar of strength against the cruel gusts that buffeted it. Else pushed open the large doors with Cynric's help and stumbled inside, the wind blowing some snow in after them.

They closed with a dull thud and Else brushed the snow off of her armor, her legs feeling weak. Cynric looked all around him in awe.

"This is amazing," he remarked. "How many outsiders have ever been here, inside?"

"Not many," Else admitted. Her gaze lowered to rest on the robed figure approaching them.

"Ah – Arngeir."

The Greybeard pressed his hands together and bowed, his wrinkled face creasing even further as he smiled.

"Dragonborn," he greeted. "A pleasure to see you again. To what do we owe this visit?"

"I have a few questions to ask Paarthurnax, if that's alright."

"I am sure he would be honored." Arngeir suddenly frowned as he spied Cynric behind Else. "You bring a stranger to our halls."

"He can be trusted. He's…an associate." Else laced her fingers together. "I need his help with something, and we need to speak to Paarthurnax. It concerns the history of the dragons."

The Greybeard hesitated. "If you would excuse us, I need to speak to the Dragonborn in private."

Else followed him a few paces from Cynric before he stopped. "As much as you may trust him, I don't know if I do. This is our master we speak of."

"I recognize that, Arngeir, but my associate needs to hear what Paarthurnax has to say. And," Else said after hesitating a bit, "I believe he won't not speak of Paarthurnax outside of ourselves. He is a trustworthy man."

Arngeir gazed at Cynric for a long moment before nodding sagely. "As you wish, Dragonborn." He bowed again. "May your journeys be pleasant."

"Thank you, Arngeir."

The Greybeard glided away to some unseen nook, and Else beckoned to Cynric. "We still have some more climbing to do," she stated. Cynric groaned, and she smiled. "It's not like climbing the 7000 Steps again, so no worries."

"I thought that Paar…Parth…your friend would be here in High Hrothgar."

"No – he's atop the Throat of the World." She walked through the sanctuary, her footsteps making audible but soft thuds against the stone floor. "There is a bit of mist on the way up, but I'll be able to clear that. Just keep close."

They exited the fortress and went into the courtyard. Cynric blinked in the setting sun, wincing as it hit his eyes. Else didn't pause, continuing off to the right where a torrent of wind and mist shrouded the pass. She clenched her fists tightly, put her front foot forward, and shouted.

"_LOK VAH KOOR._"

The mist dissipated and Else marched on forward, Shouting when encountering a patch of cloud. It would always disappear, but Cynric noted that when they continued on through the pass, it would appear once again.

"What exactly," he shouted over the wind, "does 'lohk vah coor' mean?"

"Well, it's…not pronounced like that, for starters. But it means, 'sky', 'spring', and 'summer' respectively." Else chuckled before shouting another area of mist away. "The Greybeards have tried to explain to me how, exactly, the soul and the language of a dragon can control elements of nature, but it is far above my head."

Cynric nodded and quickly lengthened his stride to catch up with her as roaring wind materialized close behind him.

Suddenly, the wind died out in front of them and Else stopped, turning to look at Cynric.

"Now…I don't want you to freak out. I'm trusting you a lot, bringing you up here." She hesitated, chewing her lip. "Not even Bryn knows about this, okay? I'd be in a lot of trouble with quite a few people if they knew. So you have to promise to keep it a secret, alright?"

Cynric's brow furrowed, but he nodded slowly. "Alright. You have my word, Else."

Her heart fluttered slightly, and she turned back around. Taking a deep breath, she marched on.

The peak of the Throat was empty, save for a broken and forgotten Word Wall, its carvings worn away by centuries of wind and battering snow. Cynric looked over the whole of Skyrim in awe, bathed in orange and gold and rose with the setting sun. "Have you ever seen anything like this?" he asked breathlessly, turning back to Else. She looked at him for a moment, at the light that seemed to shine from his eyes.

"Very rarely – but it's always a masterpiece." She smiled. "You should see it when Masser and Secunda are in the night sky, as well as the aurora. It's breathtaking."

There was a sudden rush of air, and the two thieves turned to look at the cause.

"_Drem yol lok, malbron_," Paarthurnax rumbled, alighting on the ground behind the two.

"_Drem yol lok, zeymah_," Else greeted in return before grinning and rushing toward the dragon like a child to her father. He pushed his head, larger than her, against her chest.

"Else, no!" Cynric cried, his hand going for his bow. The Dragonborn turned around, holding a hand out to her friend to stop him.

"It's alright, Cynric – he's a friend." Else let go of Paarthurnax's horns, turning so that she didn't block their view of each other. "Paarthurnax, this is Cynric Endell, one of my friends."

"_Drem yol lok, Cynric_. Welcome to _monahven_. The Throat of the World."

"Hello," Cynric said a bit shakily, shifting his gaze to Else in confusion and a little fear. She smiled at him comfortingly.

"Paarthurnax here helped me to defeat Alduin. In fact, he was instrumental." She pressed her face to the dragon's warm jade colored scales. "He has been one of my close friends since the Greybeards let me seek his counsel."

"_Malbron_, you _zin_, you honor me with your words," Paarthurnax rumbled. "Though I _mindok_, I know you are not here just for my counsel."

"I'm afraid not, my friend." Else paused, scratching under the dragon's jaw as she organized her thoughts. "We were wondering if you knew anything about the Hoard of the Dragon Priests."

"Ah. _Dahmaan_. I remember." Paarthurnax closed his eyes for a moment before looking at the two humans tiredly. Cynric inched closer until he was standing beside Else. "I had nearly _vodahmin_. Forgotten. It has been many years since I have thought of it.

"The _dovahaar_ – the dragon servants, or the Dragon Priests, as you call them – acquired many riches in our name, though not all of _dov_ were permitted to slumber in the golden mountains. Many did not even know the location."

"So it still exists?" Cynric asked excitedly. Paarthurnax's smoky blue eyes glittered in the sunset as his gaze went from the Breton back to Else.

"Ah, so you have become a _maltafiir_ – a little thief. Not what I expected from our _dovahkiin_." He exposed his teeth in a sly smile. "Perhaps even _kinbok se tafiirre_? Leader of thieves?"

"Perhaps." Else's mischievous smile matched that of the dragon's. "But that's not important – what is important is the Hoard: where it is, how to get to it, any traps it may have."

Paarthurnax shook his head. "_Krosis_. I knew only of the _dov's_ entrance – just east of Markarth, over the Druadach _Strunmahhe_, mountains, but the _dovahaar_ destroyed it to prevent _tafiirre_ when the _dov_ were eradicated. I would think that the entrance would be close by. I do not know."

Cynric's smile was as large as the Rift. "That's all we needed, er, sir. You have been a huge help."

Paarthurnax swiveled his head and stretched out his neck to touch Cynric's chest with his snout. "You are _kril_, brave, _maltafiir_, though you do not see so. _Hi lost zin_. You have honor. And you are worthy to travel with my dovahkiin." He lightly nudged Cynric. "Now go. Return to High Hrothgar to sleep. I have hoped that I have helped."

The dragon suddenly stiffened, and the two humans stepped back as he launched into the air, his wings causing a great rush of air. "_Su'um arkh morah_, _malbron _and _maltafiir_," the dragon said as he departed to unknown places.

Else watched him leave before turning back to Cynric. "I think sleep sounds like a fine idea. I look forward to a real bed."

Cynric nodded, but didn't move, watching the dragon as he soared over the Skyrim plains, his thu'um rumbling from many miles away. For a moment, Cynric felt the wish to fly, to have to moonlight on some sort of wings and the rush of air coursing over his body. But he turned, and followed Else down to the sanctuary, the feeling of envy still lingering.


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm sorry for the late update guys. I was struggling with a bit of writer's block, and I also started a new job this week, so things have been a little hectic. Anyways, I feel sorry for all of you who love Brynjolf (but this is technically canon) - enjoy!**

* * *

_-17 Second Seed, 4E203, Riften-_

Else giggled, accidentally tipping over a full bottle of Black-Briar Mead over the counter. Vekel eyed her with amusement as she mumbled an apology, trying to mop up the spill with her sleeve. The sounds of laughter and chattering bounced off the curved sides of the Flagon.

She had arrived with Cynric a little under a week ago with the news of the Hoard, and since then, the Guild was in a state of celebration. This was the first night that Else had participated however, and she was quickly inebriated.

Else turned around and eyed the group: Sapphire sat beside Thrynn, who remained perched on a crate. On the other side of Sapphire, Vex and Vipir leaned against each other on a stack of crates, while Karliah sat cross-legged on the ground in front of them. Delvin sat on the bench across from them, while Rune sat beside him.

"Okay, okay, okay," Sapphire slurred from her position by the pool in the Flagon. Else made her way over to the small group of thieves drinking and talking. "Who's next?"

"I think I am," Vex said with a small hiccup. She shook her head as though trying to clear a drunken mist. "Alright. Karliah." The thief frowned at the Dunmer in concentration before her mouth curved into a grin. "Who is it that glides over the earth, and swallows both waters and woods? He fears the wind, but not man, and seeks to destroy the sun."

Karliah bit down on one grey lip, her purple eyes narrowing as she thought. "Is it…the fog?" she suggested.

Vex made a sour face and took a drink. The Dunmer woman laughed merrily and leaned back.

"Ah, this is the trouble with riddles – after 200 years, I know almost every one of them. I suppose it's my turn to ask." Her eyes roamed the group in front of her before landing on Rune. "I hope you're prepared for this, Rune.

"They are many and one; they wave and they drum; used to cover a stare; they go with you everywhere."

Everyone watched with amusement as Rune struggled with the answer. "They are…blindfolds?"

Karliah chuckled. "No. Hands." She covered her eyes with her long fingers, peeking out at the Imperial from between them. He took a drink with a mutter.

Else laughed again, tipping back her tankard to drain it of Bloodwine. She leaned her head against the crate she was sitting against, enjoying the buzz of the alcohol.

"Hey, Else, where's Bryn?" someone asked – Vipir, maybe? – and Else lifted her head.

"He said he was going to the place with the lady and the guards. Mistveil Keep. Something about petitioning Maven about something."

"Maven," Delvin said distastefully. "What a man eater."

"I'll say," Else added, pouring more brandy into her tankard. "Lady may be the Jarl, but that doesn't make her any less of a bitch."

Delvin suddenly grinned. "Isn't your fault she's on the throne now?"

Else shrugged. "I had to when I was negotiating between the Imperials and the Stormcloaks. Ulfric demanded the Reach, or there would be no negotiations. It was only fair that I give Tullius the Rift."

"I just wish someone better had been picked to be Jarl."

Else held up her hands. "I'm not complaining. Maven lets us run things around here – better than Laila Law-Giver did, anyways." She picked up her tankard and took a long draught of wine, letting it burn down her throat. She blinked and rolled her head around her shoulders. "Least we don't have to worry about surprise inspections anymore."

The sweet, fruity aroma of the brandy still clung to her mouth, and she ran her tongue over her lips. She wiggled her toes to test out the sensation and found them numb.

"Vekel!" she roared out. "D'we have anymore Bloodwine?"

"All out, Guildmaster," he replied serenely, continuing to clean flagons.

"Damn," she mumbled. "What else we got?"

"Ale. You drank everything else."

There was a general groan from the group, and Else stood, swaying. She looked over her fellow thieves.

"Let's head to the Bee and Barb. Drinks on me!"

Her companions cheered and followed her out of the Flagon. Vekel suddenly straightened.

"If you're going to the Bee and Barb, tell Tonilia that I'll be waiting for her here, would you?"

"'Course," Else replied with a hiccup. She swayed a bit unsteadily before leading the march to the inn.

The Riften night was clear, with the beckoning warmth of summer – at least as warm as Skyrim could be. Crickets chirped lazily in the dark, serenading the thieves as they stumbled across the bridges. Else took a moment to study the sky, with Masser and Secunda veiled by the waving purple light of the aurora.

The patrons of the Bee and Barb looked up in disgust as the group burst in, drunk as lords and louds as mammoths. They each took their seats at the bar, some leaning against it as the stools filled up. Else smiled at Keerava, taking stock of her wares, before waving at Talen-Jei to come over.

The Argonian approached the group with a smile, placing one scaled hand on Else's shoulder. "And what brings us to the Bee and Barb this evening?"

"Alcohol," Else said cheerily. "What sort of concoctions you got for us?"

The green-scaled Argonian smiled wider. "Well, we have White-Gold Towers, made with Cyrodiilic Brandy – "

"We'll have that," she interrupted. "For everyone. On me."

The thieves cheered as the flagons were placed in front of each of them, and they made no time burying their faces in them. Else watched them, a big smile on her face.

She was glad to have a family again. Until she had joined up with the Grey Fox back in Cyrodiil, she had never felt like her home had a family in it – except, of course, her mother. And she was in Sovngarde, now, from a case of Brain Rot gone too far. For a moment, Else felt her eyes sting, but quickly shook them away, focusing on the boisterous laughter of her friends.

"…and then he says, 'I think you'll find I was talking to the sheep.'"

Everyone burst out laughing, and Else joined in halfheartedly, though she had no idea what the joke had been about. She took a large swig of the White-Gold Tower, too drunk to even taste it.

She was going to have the worst hangover tomorrow.

All of the sudden, her drink was empty, and Vex was calling for it to be refilled. Karliah, on her other side, smiled almost dreamily, her purple eyes a bit glassy. Else was entertained by her story of the Dunmer's first heist. Who knew such thievery could be pulled with some soft boots, a roasted ox head, and a cheese wheel?

"I'm going to bed," Else suddenly announced, pushing herself away from the counter. The group protested but she shook her head and exited the inn with a few garbled goodbyes.

When she reached Honeyside, however, and was trying to find her key to the front door, she suddenly realized that she had left it in the Flagon. With a loud and coarse curse, she turned around and marched right back to the Bee and Barb, placing some Septims on the counter in front of Keerava.

"I'll be takin' a room for tonight. Forgot my fuckin' key," she slurred, and waved her hand as the bronze scaled Argonian stood to show her the room. "I know where to go, don't worry 'bout me."

As she walked up the stairs, dizziness overtook her, and she placed a hand against the wall to steady herself, shaking her head. However, instead of clearing her head, it only made her want to vomit. She breathed deeply for a few moments, chasing the sensation away, before continuing up the way.

Pausing in front of the door, she placed her hand on the doorknob and pushed it open. She stood still, blinking at the sweaty couple entwined on the bed, the bedding mussed and the room smelling of sex and sweat.

"Whoo-oops! Sorry, didn't mean to barge in," she apologized clumsily, her eyes shifting away for a moment before turning back to the two in shock. Her stomach twisted violently.

Brynjolf laid on Tonilia, his craggy hands on the Redguard's bottom to push himself even further into her. She clutched his head, dark hands buried in his red hair as she moaned and arched her back, bucking at where their pelvises met. Her legs were tightly wrapped around him as he thrust into her repeatedly with animalistic grunts. Else almost couldn't pull her eyes away from the scene.

Yep, she was going to be sick.

The red haired Nord suddenly realized that the door was open – and who was standing in the doorway. He stopped all movements, his mouth dropping open. "Else."

Else put a hand over her mouth and rushed to her room, shutting and locking the door behind her. After a few moments while she sat on the bed, trying to will away the urge to throw up, he banged on the door.

"Else! Can we talk?"

"Go 'way, Brynjolf," she replied. "And don't you even think about pickin' that lock, or I'll rip your fucking balls off. Or something," she finished lamely, bile filling her throat.

His knocking kept rapping on the door for a few moments, before it began to dwindle in its intensity, and finally stopped altogether. Eventually, she heard his footsteps as he walked away from the door.

Fortunately, she managed to reach a kettle in time when she began to vomit profusely, rather than doing so all over the floor.

* * *

_-18 Second Seed, 4E203-_

Else kept the frost salts, wrapped in linen, atop her forehead, trying to stop the pounding in her head. If they could make a potion to make you invisible, why oh why couldn't they make a potion to erase hangovers? And on that note, memories as well?

She sat in Honeyside, grimly staring at the thick potato gruel in front of her. Her tab last night had reached two thousand Septims, and she had thrown in an extra five hundred to cover the damages – apparently, Thrynn had started a bar fight after she passed out.

There was a knock at the door, and she winced at the sound, standing and clutching the frost salts to her forehead. She opened the door and nearly shut it, had Brynjolf not stuck his hand out and kept it open.

"Lass, we need to talk," he said gruffly.

"About what? About you fucking Tonilia? No, I think I just covered it," she mumbled, and tried to close the door again. Brynjolf stepped in quickly and shut the door behind him.

"Lass – Else," he said firmly, "I see no reason for you to be angry with me."

"Oh? Because you were with someone else, or because it's Vekel's girl?" the Nord snapped, and winced as a pang shot through her forehead. She sat down in a chair and glared at Brynjolf. He folded his arms.

"I'll admit, perhaps Tonilia wasn't the best person – "

"Oh, so who's it going to be next time? Vex? Sapphire? Maybe even Maven herself, eh?"

"Aedra fuck all, Else," he growled, "we are not in a relationship. You know we don't even love each other. And while you run off and sleep with whoever you want, I can't even look at another woman?"

Else looked taken aback. "I – I –"

"No, don't say anything. I'll tell you what I see: you, _Guildmaster_," he said with a slightly mocking tone, "can't stand to see what you think of as 'yours' to be used by someone else. Because let's be honest here, I'm just a tool. You can't get close to another fucking person, so you use me and Aedra know who else to try and feel as though you have some sort of intimacy with anybody, lass.

"And let's face it, you push everybody and anybody away. You don't feel close to anyone because you don't let them in. Well, I'm tired of trying, lass. You can go screw Alduin himself for all I care. And in fact, I don't care. What I did with Tonilia is my business, not yours."

Else was quiet, staring at the floor. After a moment, she opened her mouth. "I didn't sleep with anyone else," she whispered.

Brynjolf shrugged, his anger subsiding. "It doesn't matter if you did or not, lass – you can't call claim to me like I'm your spouse-to-be."

Else struggled to rein in her emotions. "Fine. But I have one condition, and this one is not as the woman you sleep with but as the Guildmaster." She raised her lightning blue eyes to look at him. "For the sake of the Guild, and for Vekel, please stop sleeping with Tonilia. Fuck whoever else, but not Tonilia. She already engaged to Vekel. And I can't lose our fence, or our bartender."

Brynjolf's mouth pinched together for a moment before softening. "Alright, lass. So be it."

"And…Brynjolf?"

"What?"

"Don't come to me again. You are nothing but Guild Second, now, understood?"

He nodded once and the door shut behind him. Else stood and shakily turned the key in the lock before fleeing to her bedroom and lying on the bed. The tears came steadily, and she cried long and hard. It was only a matter of time until she passed out from an emotional exhaustion.


	8. Chapter 7

_-25 Second Seed, 4E203-_

Else drew the arrow from its quiver and pulled it against the nocking point, aiming carefully at the stuffed dummy. It sat limply, already pocked with tiny holes in its chest and eyes that revealed straw under the linen.

She released the string and it zipped forward with a rush of air. It sank into the dummy until it poked out the other side, the impact making a deep thwacking noise. As soon as the arrow stood still, she released her breath and lowered the ebony bow.

The cistern was empty, and quiet. Her footsteps were the only noises as she walked over to the Guild Master's desk, leaning the bow against the side of it. Sinking into the chair, she stared at the Stones of Barenziah on the desk – now there were six: two from Windhelm, one from the Nordic ruin Ansilvund, and one from Stony Creek Cave.

They turned and glittered before her, their facets reflecting the light from the single candle on her desk. She lowered her head so that her chin rested on her arms, watching the rosy gems rotate and bob in front of her.

The Thieves Guild hadn't felt her presence for a few days, since the fiasco with Brynjolf. Now, she had sent every single one of them on a mission of some sort, whether it be petty thievery or jobs related to the Hoard. In fact, she was waiting to hear back from Delvin and Vex, who had gone to find the entrance to the Hoard the day after her…incident.

She took a deep breath and straightened up, gripping the side of the desk until her knuckles turned white. Anger and frustration, and most of all, self-loathing, welled up in her until she felt she couldn't take it anymore. Else stood.

"_VEN GAAR NOS_!" she roared out, letting the Shout consume her feelings.

The cyclone raged around the cistern, whipping up the cool and moist air as it scattered tools and furniture everywhere. By the time it had died out, the cistern was a mess. She slumped back in her seat, wondering if it had been worth it.

"Else? I'm back from Solitude – the job went off without a hitch!" Cynric poked his head into the cistern from the secret entrance, his smile fading as he saw the state of the room. "What…what happened?"

"Nothing you need to know of," Else muttered, looking away. He looked concerned.

"Are you alright? You haven't seemed…right, lately."

She turned her head to look at him. He stepped back at the sight of the anger burning in her eyes. "Go away, Cynric. I don't need you right now."

He hesitated. "Else, I know something _is_ wrong. I'd like to help you if you could just let me in…"

"Enough, Cynric."

"Does this have anything to do with Brynjolf?"

"_GO_!" she shouted, and unintentionally Shouted, as she stood and slammed her palms against the desk. The rock walls of the cistern quaked with the single syllable. Cynric did not tear his gaze from her face, though dirt dislodged itself to fall on his shoulder. After a moment, she lowered herself into her seat again, turning her gaze away. "I am done speaking with you. And you will not speak to me about my private matters again."

His face suddenly became set, and he walked towards her, kneeling by her chair. Placing his hand on her arm, he paused.

"Else. It may hurt, but it doesn't mean that you have to shut people out. No one will think you're weak. And I'm your friend, Else – you can talk to me about anything."

Else suppressed the desire to wrench his hand off of her. Aedra damn the tears that threatened to well up!

"You can't shut people out. No one can live that way."

"I can shut out who I damn well please," Else muttered. "People are nothing but a disappointment, and seem to have done nothing but disappoint me."

Cynric suddenly took her hand, his gaze lowering. "Am I a disappointment to you?" he almost whispered, his disquieting blue eyes flicking back up to her.

Else looked back at him, startled. "Wha – n-no, Cynric, of course not. What are you doing?" A deep, heated flush rose to her cheeks.

"Well, well, well. And what have we here?"

Else snatched her hand away, her flush turning redder at the sound of Delvin's accent. "Nothing of your concern, Delvin," she growled in response. "And certainly not what you're thinking."

Vex smirked, but the smile soon faded as her eyes roved around the cistern. "What the fuck happened here?" she said incredulously.

"A cyclone," Else replied, but before the blonde Imperial could inquire further, she spoke again. "Do you have any news of the Hoard?"

Delvin's sly smile still hadn't left his face. "Aye, but there's a small problem…"

"You need a key to get in," Vex added. "And not just any key, a – "

"Dragon claw," Else sighed. "It's a Nordic puzzle door, isn't it? Any idea what kind of claw?"

"Not a clue. However, Vex was kind enough to scribble down some of the odd markings around the door." He pulled a slightly crumpled, folded piece of paper from his bag and handed it to the Guildmaster. She opened it and scanned the piece of paper before chuckling a bit.

"What?" Vex asked. Cynric, in the meantime, edged away from the group and set about moving some of the furniture back into its proper place around the cistern.

"Oh, this passage here looks like it was scratched in by someone part of the Dragon Priest cult, judging by the content. It's a warning that the initiates should stop forgetting their keys, or else they'll lose some key body parts," she explained. Her eyes darted to another section of the paper. "This part looks more promising."

"What does it say?" Vex pressed. Else looked up at her, raising an eyebrow in amusement at the Imperial's enthusiasm. Glancing back down, she began to speak haltingly, translating as she spoke.

"Neither gold nor gems will open this door,

But only a claw of Solstheim ice

Will tear it open."

Delvin and Vex glanced at each other. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Else tossed the paper onto the desk. "Either of you ever heard of stalhrim before?" Vex shook her head; Delvin didn't move, watching the Guildmaster closely. "It's the enchanted ice found on the island of Solstheim – kind of looks like a mix of ice and sapphire and quicksilver. About as difficult as ebony to smith, and when it's made into armor, very difficult to break through. So what we're looking for is a claw made of the stuff."

She paused, pushing a hand through her hair. "It's a pretty amazing material. You can only use a certain type of pick on it, and it used to be that the stuff was everywhere in Nordic tombs. No surprise seeing as how Solstheim used to be a part of Skyrim, till some huge battle between, surprise, Dragon Priests caused it to break off from the mainland." Her eyes slid over to Delvin. "I'm sure you know what it is, Delvin – Glover deals with it fairly often."

"Aye, that he does." He reached over his shoulders, rubbing the back of his bald head. "But how are we supposed to know where this stalhrim claw even is?"

Else chewed her lip and drummed her fingers on the table as she thought. "I suppose we have to keep our ears to the ground," she confessed. "Normally, when I went into the Nordic ruins, the claw would be very close by. Conveniently enough," she added, a thoughtful look passing over her face.

Vex sighed. "So if we can't find this damned claw…"

"We're not getting in. Or we can climb down the dragon entrance, but from what Paar – from what I heard, that is, it was destroyed. It could take years to enter from that way, and we may not even get in."

Vex cracked her knuckles. "No wonder this place was just a myth," she muttered. "No easy way in, no way of knowing if you can get in…"

"Why can't we just break into this place? If we have any other claw, can't we just use it and try to figure out the puzzle?" Delvin fixed Else with a stare as he waited for the answer.

Else shook her head. "Even if we could do that, there are nine different combinations you could make on the door – and each wrong answer would probably end up with the guesser being shot with poisoned darts, if not something worse. Even if you have the correct combination, though, the lock where the claw is supposed to be inserted is enchanted. If it's not stalhrim, it's not opening."

"Shor's bones, and I thought finding the place would be difficult enough," Vex muttered, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling.

"Well, fortunately, they're like the Stones: if people find them nowadays, they consider them trinkets. I knew a man in Riverwood who proudly kept a golden claw in his shop – it was no surprise it was stolen. And, besides that, I'm very confident that there's a great chance that there will be one."

"How can you be? We have no idea where it is. It could be destroyed for all we know." Vex pouted, her lower lip sticking out further.

"Well, we know one thing – there was one than one. The Priests used them as keys, so it's not like they only had one between all of the group, believed to be a hundred strong by some scholars." Else shook her head. "There's a high chance that there's at least one out there, somewhere."

Vex and Delvin glanced at each other before Vex shrugged. "I guess all we can do is wait," she said a bit sourly, her lip curling at the thought.

"As I said," Else replied curtly, arms gripping the sides of her chair. "Now, if that's all you have to report, you can go do…whatever it is you like to do."

Delvin's eyebrows raised as he paused, and then pivoted on his heel to leave. Vex hurried behind him. Else closed her eyes and breathed out a long exhale, her shoulders drooping with relief. There was the sound of someone clearing their throat, and Else opened one eye.

Cynric stood in front of her, hands placed on the desk so that he leaned forward. His blue eyes were fixed on her face.

"Leave me alone, Cynric," Else said wearily. "I can't handle this right now."

His lips parted as if to say something, but pressed them back together. Straightening, he tilted his head toward her in acknowledgement before turning to leave.

Else bit her lip. She finally got what she wanted – peace – but why did her heart feel so strained watching him walk away?

* * *

The sun set on Lake Honrich, illuminating the two figures sitting on the back porch of Honeyside in fiery oranges and pinks. Else sat on the wooden planks, her legs hanging through the slats in the rail. Beside her, Karliah leaned against the side of the house, looking out to the lake.

"How did you feel when Gallus died?" Else droned apathetically, her eyes fixed on the water lapping below. Karliah looked over at her.

"It felt like drowning. But, then again, he was murdered right in front of me." Karliah looked over at her. "Is this about Brynjolf?"

"Fuck. I guess everybody knows about it, huh?"

"With your stormy mood and Brynjolf's refusal to be around you, as well as being in such a small group as the Guild, makes it rather obvious."

Else groaned, leaning her forehead against the rails. "I suppose it was inevitable."

"Aye." Karliah paused. "I am curious, though, as to how it came about."

The Guildmaster turned her head to look at the Dunmer thief. "If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone. Especially Vekel."

Karliah's gray face became a light shade of purple. "By the Shadows. Tonilia?"

Else nodded, swinging her feet. "I walked in on them the night we were in the Bee and Barb, celebrating. I'm sure that wasn't the only time, though."

Karliah bit her lip, crossing her arms over a light blue tunic. "I don't believe that's what upsetting you, though."

"No. Brynjolf came here the next day. He…told me that…I use people. Like they're…things. And I consider them mine." She was quiet for a moment. "What hurts about it is that he's right. I don't let anyone get close."

"Well, this seems pretty close, what we're doing," Karliah remarked.

"Aye, but we're also bonded by our pact with Nocturnal. Though you are by far a more pious Nightingale than I am."

The Dunmer shrugged. "I have pledged myself to her for many, many years. She considers me a loyal courier of her will, so to say. But Nocturnal is not a Daedric prince that wants to be worshipped. She wants to be obeyed. And as far as I can tell, you yourself have done so promptly and with no hesitation. And she greatly admires that." She paused before speaking again. "But…the Mistress of Shadows does have a rather fickle will – we don't know why she bids us to do certain things, but we hope to stay in her favor to keep the luck she grants us."

Karliah shook her hand dismissively. "But now we're getting off point. I don't believe that you use people. You have been nothing but kind to the Guild, and to the people in it. Just because you felt the need to be close with one person and to have that person feel the same for you does not mean that you are weak. It simply makes you…a person. You don't use people like Brynjolf said you do – I believe he simply felt trapped, and went about, well, everything the wrong way.

"That being said: don't return to him. I never said this, but you deserve far better. Brynjolf is, beyond everything, a thief who is concerned far more with his cut than the rest of the Guild – and that separates him from you."

Else was quiet for a moment before she lifted her head. "Thanks, Karliah."

"Don't mention it. Now, before I forget, there was a note for you at the Flagon today." The Dunmer's face was suddenly grim. "Someone had pinned it to the door with an elven dagger. From the Summerset Isles."

Else lifted her eyebrows as she stood. "Either Niruin is playing a practical joke, or…"

"Or someone got in without us knowing."

"I don't like the idea of someone who was potentially Thalmor in the Guild," Else muttered, taking the proffered paper from Karliah's slim hand.

"It's written in Altmeris, if you need translation."

Else shook her head. "It's fine. I know the language." She scanned the paper, her brow furrowing deeper with each line. Looking back up at Karliah, she pressed her lips together.

"It's the Summerset Shadows."

Karliah's eyebrows rose high into her forehead. "I thought you had wiped them out."

"Aye, but according to this, through some select…_funding_," Else said, emphasizing with scorn, "they have formed anew, and are under the leadership of someone named…'Vorian'?" She glanced back at the paper in her hand. "Not only that, but they have threatened violence if we don't halt our work to find the Hoard."

"How could they possibly know about that?" the Dunmer asked in disbelief.

Else shrugged, scratching the back of her head as she stared at the letter. After a moment, she ripped it in two. "However they might know of it, I'll personally make sure they don't get their murdering hands on it. With the Thalmor backing them, though, they are sure to be stronger. But no match against the Dragonborn."

She tossed the pages into the lake, watching as the water smeared the ink, causing the words to disappear.

"How do you know that the Thalmor are backing them?" Karliah suddenly asked.

"The letter bragged about special treatment from high authority," Else replied. "With them being Altmer, it would make sense that it would be the Thalmor."

"I'm guessing you're not their biggest fan," Karliah remarked, amused.

"I loathe the Thalmor. They're nothing but murderers, and have killed more of my friends than I care to count. Not to mention their complete refusal of Talos. It is a right of the Nords, and truly anyone, to worship who and what they want." Else shrugged. "But who am I to say anything? I am not a particularly religious person."

The two were quiet for a moment, watching the letter become waterlogged and finally slipping under the surface, disappearing as it rippled away with the lethargic current.

"If you hadn't become a thief, what would you have done?" Karliah asked, turning her purple eyes to look at the honey-haired Nord.

"Well, that depends partially on my parents," the Guildmaster replied with a chuckle. "My mother would have wanted to see me become a lady, married off to some wealthy family. My father wouldn't have cared enough to make me do anything other than stay away from him." Else drummed her fingers against the rail. "But…I would have liked to become a scholar. Books and my tutors were the only things that kept me sane back in Bruma, before I joined the Thieves Guild. I didn't have many friends," Else remarked wryly.

"My brother Bormir is a scholar in the Imperial City, granted permission to use the libraries of the Moth Priests by Titus Mede the Second himself, Arkay preserve him. My other brother, Daglin, was a soldier, but I had no interest fighting for an ideal I may or may not agree with. No, studying in the great libraries seemed far more interesting."

"And hence all the languages you seem to know," the Dunmer remarked.

Else shrugged. "If you had a chance to understand every person you came across, every book you ever read, wouldn't you try to learn as many languages as possible?"

Karliah straightened, brushing off imaginary dust from her calves. "I think it's about time for me to leave. But it was nice to talk with you. Just, do remember, Brynjolf is not the only one that can pass judgment on you. He is a fellow Nightingale, but everyone does make mistakes."

The Dunmer touched Else's shoulder, and the Nord smiled. "Shadows preserve you, Karliah."

"And you as well, _sera_." The Nightingale disappeared from the porch with nary a whisper.

Else gazed at the sky, a strange sense of relief flooding her body. The stars were beginning to glimmer in the darkening sky, painted with a stroke of navy blue and purple over the red and orange. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of fresh mountain flowers and late spring air.

The door closed with a soft sigh behind her as she left to go to sleep.


End file.
